


Always know that you are not alone

by Livinelf



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed-centric, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Gavin Reed, Swearing, but nothing too graphic, but this is about Gavin Reed so probably expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17409899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinelf/pseuds/Livinelf
Summary: He says he hates androids. That is a lie, he doesn’t. He admires them - always has, ever since Elijah called him in the middle of the night and stumbled through an almost incoherent, excited explanation laced through with "Chloe,  Chloe, Chloe".But this android doesn't need to know that. It just needs to go the fuck away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love Gavin Reed and want him to be happy :) Connor to the rescue!
> 
> This was supposed to be like 2,000 words, but then things happened. Whoops.  
> The work is complete, just polishing the remaining 2 chapters, will put them up in a matter of days.
> 
> Beta'd by wonderful AmosLee1023. All remaining mistakes are mine, probably there because I refused to change some precious sentence :)

Today, Gavin is angry. That is not unexpected, after all he's angry most of the time - at himself, at others, at the world. Sometimes he can't even say what he's angry at... Just feels the emotion within him,  trapped, and he lashes out - yells, sneers, rages, _hurts_ in hopes of reducing his own discomfort.

It never works for long though, and most of the time he’s fucking restless, searching for someone else to harass and take the edge off. It wasn’t always like this, he remembers different times - times when he felt better, but some days he thinks he was born to be angry the way some people are born to sing or to draw. He just got the shitty talent. Which... figures, really.

Long ago, there still were people who cared, who wanted him _happy_ , who tried to help only to give up. One by one, all of them left him, even Elijah. He figures that’s fair. He’d have given up on himself too.

So, today he’s angry.

He knows he is a good detective. Well, he knows he _was_ a Good detective... Before the tin can shows up and everything goes to hell. He looks at the Android and can’t help but see a superior being, a being with capabilities that will quickly outshine his own. He sees a machine,  but that machine is strong. It’s fast, it can analyze and reconstruct on the spot, it can ignore injuries, it doesn't get hungry, doesn't get tired, doesn't get... angry. The only thing it lacks is experience with actual people.  But as soon as that experience is acquired… Reed will become obsolete. Because why have an unstable, unreliable, _breakable_ human detective when you can have... Connor.

He is scared. And as is always the case, fear transforms into anger and he lashes out time after time, showing the Android just how ugly humans can be. He says he hates androids. That is a lie, he doesn’t. He admires them - always has, ever since Elijah called him in the middle of the night and stumbled through an almost incoherent, excited explanation laced through with "Chloe,  Chloe, Chloe".

But this android doesn't need to know that. It just needs to go the fuck away.

And it doesn’t. It keeps appearing at his crime scenes, pissing him off, contaminating the evidence (not true), and generally being a nuisance (also not true, rk800 is competent and efficient).

“Hey dipshit,  bring me coffee!“ He throws the cup into the trash the second it's placed on his table. The look on Roomba's face is priceless,  all that “I do not understand and am processing this” expression, complete with the yellow LED light on his temple. This is why Gavin does this, the petty little offenses that make no sense. He wants to see Connor's perfection ruffled, wants proof that this machine doesn't know everything - wants to see the confusion on that pretty face that means it encountered something beyond its programming... It makes the anger easier to bear.

There is a day he dedicates to hitting Connor with a tennis ball. The ball never does reach its goal, but he wants to check if the stupid plastic ever tires of catching it. It doesn’t. Gavin runs out of balls.

He sees Connor walking to the archives and he's not about to miss this chance, especially considering that the android’s nanny has finally gone off the deep end and is currently beating up an FBI agent. How the mighty have fallen. He would have liked to stay and watch, if only just to figure out if Anderson is indeed going crazy or just finally getting his shit together, but the entertainment value the android promises is greater. Especially since said android is no longer working at this station and is currently trying to visit a restricted area.

And then the plastic ignores him. He can _never_ handle that well. Ever. The gun is in his hand before he even makes a conscious decision to draw it... and, well,  he’s always been a little trigger happy.

At least it’s not ignoring him any longer.

And then it calls him Gavin. Who the fuck allowed it to do that. Later, when he thinks about the events that followed, he marvels at his own stupidity, but in the moment his body moves without his permission, squeezing the trigger. And Connor, the superior machine that he is, evades. Everything after is a mess. Getting close enough that the android could take his gun is a rookie mistake, one that would, in almost any other situation, cost him his life. Not in this one, apparently,  because Roomba just throws the gun away, instead of ending this piece of shit hostile human once and for all. He doesn't know what he expects with his pathetic attempts to physically overpower an android, but it is not winning. Against a human – maybe, against Connor? Not fucking likely. Maybe he expects to finally die. Instead, he gets knocked out.

And then the revolution happens and toasters are people now. He can’t say it’s entirely unexpected – he’s read a lot of science fiction books in his youth and in most of them androids ended up being sentient. In fact,  he’s surprised it didn’t happen faster, what with Elijah being the one to create them and all. Elijah always did like mad experiments and innovative ideas, and Cyberlife seemed to be going along with his plans right up until they threw him out of his own company. Their mistake. From the youngest age, his brother enjoyed making people dance. “Fascinating” he always said. And fascinating it often was. This was his biggest success yet -  the whole world was watching the results of his little game, and the whole world was paying for it. He must be delighted. In his place, Gavin would have been.

 

\---

 

The first time he sees Connor after the revolution, the android is standing just inside the department’s entrance, frowning at all of the desks and the officers hard at work, LED slowly spinning yellow. Gavin thinks about ignoring him, or maybe about ruffling some plastic feathers, but in the end he’s just weirdly glad Connor’s back and maybe it’s finally time to build some bridges.

“Morning, dipshit!” it comes out almost affectionate.

Connor does a weird jerky motion that might convey his surprise or might just mean he glitched or something and faces Gavin, his expression turning neutral.

“Good morning, detective Reed.” The words are, as always, polite, but there is an edge to them now, like Connor is confused and maybe suspicious, which is fair, considering their previous interactions. He supposes he should apologize, but that is _not_ happening any time soon.

“Welcome to humanity, tin can,” Gavin smirks at the android’s obvious surprise. “Sucks to be us, huh? With all the,” a vague hand motion, “emotions and shit”.

“Thank you?” It sounds more like a question.

“Don’t mention it.” He studies the bewildered android - his immaculate suit (still complete with Cyberlife insignia), his open face, his weird hairdo - and decides that it wouldn’t do to be too nice. Keep the machine on its toes and all that.

"Move. You’re in the way. And don’t forget to make me coffee.”

He pushes by Connor, lightly shoving him in the process, a spring in his step and a feeling of accomplishment in his heart.

Later, he walks out of Fowler’s office to find a cup of coffee on his desk.

Fucking android.

\----

Surprisingly, it’s the knowledge that androids are capable of feeling that relaxes Gavin around Connor, stops him from feeling threatened by the toaster’s perfection and professionalism. Now he just sees a fellow officer, stuck in that hellhole just like the rest of them.

Only, apparently, maybe not that stuck, because the next day Connor doesn’t show up for work. Gavin doesn’t think anything of it because Anderson is present and still surprisingly sober, but the day after that Connor’s desk remains empty. It takes Gavin almost two weeks to admit shit doesn’t seem to be changing and maybe plastic detective is not coming back at all. That thought leaves him... Displeased. Which should be surprising, considering the fact that just a short while ago he would have given an arm to be rid of the annoying machine, but... He's not surprised. There was something interesting about that android, and he looked forward to seeing him in action after the deviation.

It probably wouldn’t hurt to make sure he’s gone for good though, if only to kill that anticipation rising up every morning just before the precinct entrance. So he goes to the most reliable source on all things Connor.

"Where's your sidekick?" He and Anderson haven't been civil for around 3 years, in which the man turned from a brilliant officer into a husk of a human being, and Gavin doesn't give a shit about his reasons because drinking on duty is not a thing to be tolerated in anyone - beat cop or captain. Lives depend on you, so you either leave or you cope, no exceptions.

Anderson does seem to be doing much better these days, and that is almost definitely the fault of one glorified juicer.

The old man is not happy to see him, which is no surprise, and asking him was probably a mistake, but Gavin hasn’t riled anyone up today yet, so he’s itching for a fight, frustration clawing at his insides.

“What do you care, Reed? Didn’t get enough of your little games? Fuck off, I’m busy. And I ain’t telling you shit.”

He has long since gotten used to seeing hostility on this face. “Well, well, someone’s in a mood... What, dipshit clean the pantry? Threw out all the good stuff?"

He doesn’t register the movement, but between one breath and the next he’s shoved face-first into the nearby wall, cheek now flat against the cool surface and neck held in place, arm bent behind his back at a painful angle. It should feel humiliating, being manhandled so easily, but the body restricting him feels like a solid wall of muscle despite all of the fat, as if the three years have never been and Gavin still lost to Anderson every sparring. It is a little exhilarating to have a glimpse of their old connection back after so long.

He could get out of this position – he's probably stronger than Anderson at this point because several weeks of training couldn’t have undone so much neglect yet - but it would not be a pleasant experience. Besides, this is still the precinct, and, even though they are in a place that isn’t immediately noticeable, Gavin can’t take that chance. His disciplinary file is thick enough.

Words, however… Words, he can use. His self-control is shit at the best of times, but under the influence of adrenaline the brain-to-mouth filter shuts off entirely, so he smirks the widest he can manage and provokes. “Looks like someone’s been working out! Have a personal trainer I could borrow?”

The shove that follows is entirely expected, Anderson’s voice a threatening growl in his ear.

“You stay the fuck away from us. Don’t _speak_ to Connor, don’t _look_ at Connor, don’t even fucking _think_ about Connor. _Leave. Him. Alone_.” He accompanies the last words with little shakes that rattle Gavin’s breath and wow, he must have really hit some nerve.

A second later the pressure against him is gone, the sounds of heavy steps and muttering fading.

He slowly moves away from the wall and fixes his jacket. He’s not even that angry, because this interaction actually seems to have been useful - judging from Anderson’s reaction, this is not the last the precinct sees of the android. Why else would the old man bother warning him off.

He considers reporting all the violence but decides against it. After all, he has no idea what favors got pulled to keep Anderson working after that incident with the prick from FBI, and getting the DPD’s _precious_ Lieutenant fired now certainly won’t help his own standing with Fowler.  And he does want to see if the old man manages to climb out of the hole he’s dug for himself.

There’s plenty of entertainment ahead, and right now Captain has a case waiting.

 

\----

 

He wishes the case could have never happened at all, because the fucking suspect _starts a fucking fire._

Gavin crawls through dark corridors, t-shirt tied around his mouth and nose, hoping for an open door, or stairs or _something_ ,  but no -  whoever did this must have really wanted him dead, because he is surrounded by wood and smoke and no immediate way out and _fuck_ ,  he should have waited for that partner just like Fowler told him to.  Maybe the dipshit, whoever it would have been, would have noticed the problem before it got this bad.

He doesn’t know how much time he has, but it’s never much with fires. The dizziness is starting to settle in already and he is sure this is the way he went in, but maybe that’s just disorientation speaking. This is bad. This is not how he would prefer to die.

It is at that point, that the closest door explodes into splinters and someone steps out, unrecognizable through the thick black clouds. He wonders if he’s about to get shot, but no - the figure kneels next to him and he would recognize this toaster anywhere.

“You motherfucker.” It comes out in a hoarse whisper, but he’s sure he’s heard.

“It is good to see you too, Detective.” Connor is calm and collected. Good for him. “Follow me”

Gavin tries, but it seems to not be sufficiently fast because suddenly he’s being dragged and this should be humiliating, but he only feels grateful.

“I am sorry I couldn’t be here earlier.” The android sounds relaxed, as per fucking usual, concentrated on movement.

He registers being in a different room, registers Connor pulling him out onto the big balcony. The air here is better, so he pulls his makeshift mask off and breathes and coughs. And then they have to get down. Right now, he thanks the rich fuck whose house is currently burning down for having stairs even here.

It is only in the car, after two more coughing fits, that he finally tries speaking.

“Where the fuck where you?” It comes out rough and it hurts his throat, so maybe being silent is a good choice right now. Gavin’s never one for good choices though.

“I have been finishing paperwork. Captain Fowler informed me that you were to wait for my arrival. Which you, obviously,  did not.” The Android is visibly displeased, but looks kind of comical with soot stains on his face and clothing. Gavin himself probably looks like shit.

“I meant before. Those few weeks.” His eyes hurt, so he closes them. “Why the fuck aren’t you driving?”

“We are waiting for an ambulance.”

“Why? “

“To check on the damage to your throat and lungs.”

His eyes fly open and the sharp light blinds him, so he squints.  Connor is not even looking at him, sitting straight, hands on the wheel, staring at the immaculate driveway ahead.

“I’m not going to the fucking hospital!”

“You are, Detective, otherwise I may have to notify Captain Fowler that you have ignored his order and rushed off alone. Cooperation is in your best interests.” Roomba doesn’t even seem that worried about his health,  just confident and sure about this course of action, and Gavin wants to try punching his smug plastic face but another cough bends him in half and all that comes out is, “Motherfucker”.

Connor smiles, the first hint of an actual emotion through the whole ordeal. “So you’ve already said. And if you are interested, I have been absent for the purpose of passing tests necessary for me to be sworn in as a police officer, now that the revolution is over and androids can legally hold jobs.”

That makes sense.

And then the android turns to him and says, "I'm sorry for not warning you of my impending absence, I did not expect you would miss me."

This time Gavin lunges. Or at least tries to, because his movements are still slow, and then he’s suddenly nauseous and maybe that ambulance was a good idea after all. He’s never telling Connor that though.

“Your ride is here, Detective.”

“Fuck you, plastic.”

He’s still happy tin can is back.

\---

Going to the hospital does turn out to be necessary, even though he still verbally fights against every procedure. By the time he walks out of its doors, he can properly breathe without coughing every minute, and his head no longer feels like there are spikes being driven into his brain. There is a list of further treatments on his phone that he intends to neglect and the next morning he arrives at the precinct as if nothing has happened, despite still feeling like shit.

“‘Sup, Loser!” The slap to the back throws him out of rereading the details of the investigation. Ah yes, Tina. His only friend in an otherwise hostile work environment. “You seen the plastic yet? Seems to be back on duty, gonna go bitch ‘bout it?”

“Fuck off, Chen!” He’s busy right now, but never too busy to flip her off. “Lay off the toaster, though, he’s alright.”

“Whaaaaaat?” Her face looks comical in its surprise. “Who are you and what have you done to Gavin Reed?” She’s smiling now, teasing, but he doesn’t have any desire to explain his thought to her, because he hasn’t even properly processed it himself.

“Haha, Tina,  very funny, very mature. Now, I’ve got important shit to do like all the other big boys here, so be a good girl and make me a coffee?” Gavin gives her a smile and a dismissive wave, and Tina snorts and bumps his shoulder.

“All right, all right, keep your secrets, spoilsport.” She takes a couple of steps towards her desk while still facing Gavin and does a little mock salute, grinning all the way through. “Later, weirdo”. He just turns back to the screen instead of a reply. This discussion is definitely not finished, but he’s thankful it didn’t have to happen in the middle of a precinct full of people. After all, no one needs to know he had warmed up to the plastic, especially said plastic himself. And he is a _he_ in Gavin’s head now, not an _it_ and if someone ever told him that would happen, he’d laugh himself sick and punch the idiot. Or maybe do the punching first. But here he is.

Gavin coughs into his fist and concentrates on his work.

 

\----

 

“Hey, tin can.” They are both in the break room and Connor is making coffee for Anderson, every movement measured and precise, while Gavin is… pretending to make coffee for himself, so that he could talk to the android and satisfy his curiosity. “Why d’you still have the mood ring?”

Connor looks comically confused, so Gavin makes a circle in the air with his finger. “You know, on your temple?”

“Oh.” The pale hand quickly flies to the LED, which is now circling yellow. “Why wouldn’t I have it?”

“Well, isn’t it like a trend with you plastics? Rip it out, blend in, all that shit?” That is true, and it’s actually becoming hard to recognize androids on the streets when they look so much like regular humans. He supposes that is the point, but for some reason it is still vaguely annoying.

“But I do not want to blend in,” he says it as if it should be obvious, but it isn’t. Not when every public crime scene has at least one human who scoffs and bitches at a “fucking android” being allowed to do police work.

He leans on the nearby counter. “Why’s that?”

Connor finishes making coffee, sets the cup aside and turns to Gavin, his face serious. “I don't want to seem human, because I am _not_ human. I am an Android.  I am not ashamed of being what I am. If anything, humans should be the ones ashamed of what they have done to an entire sentient species.” He is passionate about this, and it is so different from the polite blankness that is often displayed, that Gavin takes a second to simply watch. “I see no need to fit into the society that despises us. And those, who are ready to accept us, will do so with or without this LED.”

That’s... Reasonable. And it is refreshing to hear someone be proud of what they are, instead of always making excuses and pretending. The readiness of the android’s reply also suggests this isn’t the first time he’s answered this question.

“Aren’t you afraid of human supremacists?  Of violence, of the insults? Of unsolved cases because someone refuses to answer to a plastic?”

“I do not care about the insults as long as they are not from those I value. They do not matter, so there is no reason to get offended. On most of my cases I am accompanied by a human partner who can assist with questioning particularly prejudiced individuals. And as for violence,” his gaze slides away and he touches his shirt cuffs in a habitual gesture that betrays something like nervousness, “you might remember I am _very_ good at violence.”

And he does remember. Suddenly, it occurs to him that this isn’t simply sweet and polite Connor standing there, but a machine, designed to search, find and neutralize - a _hunter_ , a specialized weapon of unknown capabilities. They all look at him and see a soft boy with a warm smile, but he is more. He is so much _more_.

It is at the same time both fascinating (fuck you, Elijah) and terrifying, and, as is often the case with Gavin, strong emotions disable his basic communication skills in spite of the tentative truce they seem to have established... He pushes off of the counter and walks closer to Connor, stands in his personal space and stares straight into his face, challenge obvious. And it doesn’t matter that this toaster saved his life. Right now, Gavin is simply angry.

“Listen here, Roomba. I have no idea what magic you worked to have both you _and_ your nanny still here after that shit you pulled. You have broken into a place with restricted access, I happened to be the officer on site. So don’t you fucking dare bringing it up again, got it?” he coughs and gives the android a shove, that has effect only because the other allows it to. “And don’t fucking talk to me anymore, you stupid piece of plastic.”

Connor raises his hand to check the goddamned tie, his LED yellow. “I will take that under advisement, Detective.” His face and tone are earnest and obedient, just like before deviancy, and it is impossible to discern if he actually means it or is just messing with him.

Gavin sneers and walks away, straight outside to get a couple of breaths of fresh air.

When he returns, there is a cup of coffee waiting on his desk. _Again_.

Fucking android.


	2. Chapter 2

They’re on the floor in the living room of a mister George Stevenson, and Gavin is panicking. To be fair, he has a good reason to– Connor is bleeding rather heavily, the liquid blue beneath him spreading at an alarming rate. Jericho’s mechanic crew has already been alerted and are on their way, or so Connor keeps repeating every time Gavin asks if he's sure help is coming. That doesn’t calm him down, not at all, because he knows what thirium does - Elijah has been thorough enough in his excited explanations, and he doesn’t think they’ve yet managed to create an android capable of surviving a full drain.

“Why  _ the fuck  _ did you do that?” Gavin is angry and nervous - their criminal is escaping and he’s stuck here, weaponless, next to a broken piece of plastic that he won’t even be able to protect if Stevenson decides to come back and finish them off. He’s scared and that’s never a good look on him.

“It was the most efficient way to protect you from damage.” Connor’s reply is almost relaxed and it is infuriating.

“So you just... what, decided to sacrifice yourself? How much time ‘til shutdown?”

“The chances of the bullet hitting any major thirium vessels have been low, I took a risk. Other shots have been… unexpected. And,” the android’s voice stutters, the first visible malfunction, “3 minutes 11 seconds at the rate this is going.”

“3 mi- Why are you so calm, shithead? Why are you always so _ fucking _ calm?” It comes out as a snarl and he wants to slam his head down to break the tin can’s nose, only it’s his own head that would get damaged as a result, and he has enough scars as is. Plus, he is actually doing his best to keep the damned toaster alive, not damage him further.

"Detective, I assure you that I am just as unhappy about our current predicament as you. My calmness is the result of manually turning off almost all systems responsible for the physical reaction to external stimuli, in order to avoid panicking or going into shock, which would only increase thirium circulation, speeding up… Oh,”  Connor’s voice goes a little lost, and that can’t be anything good. “My visual sensors have stopped operating.” Marvelous. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

“Where. The hell. Are your buddies, you stupid machine?” He desperately tries to increase the pressure on bullet holes, but it’s not going to help much- just give them a few extra seconds at most. There is some kind of mechanical noise and a moan from the body beneath him and... shit.

That is the moment when Gavin hears the front door opening, with hurried footsteps and loud voices drawing closer, and then people burst into the room, headed by the leader of the rebellion himself-  _ what a fucking honor.  _ He just hopes they’ll be able to help.

“Fucking finally.” It is both annoyed and relieved, and between one breath and the next strength drains out of him and he slumps over the bleeding android, forehead pillowed on the wet shoulder, body trembling with the after-effects of an adrenaline rush. Someone drags him off then, helping him to the closest wall, and next few minutes are spent in a haze, mostly filled with attempts to stop shaking.

And then a voice cuts through and Gavin remembers that there are others here now, besides him and his temporary partner. When he lifts his head, no one is in the room except for him and the Android Jesus, a sea of blue under his feet and empty thirium bags all over the floor. It’s even kind of poetic. Walking on water and all that shit.

“Good evening, Detective Reed.” Something about the tone suggests this might not be the first time he has said this particular phrase. 

After the first attempt to get up fails, toaster stretches a hand forward, a silent offer of assistance. What a joke.

“Fuck off, plastic.” If the android is at all fazed by the insult, he doesn’t show it, a picture of patience and understanding. Gavin snorts. Jesus indeed. Talking seems to clear his head a little (or maybe that’s just annoyance) and he successfully stands, takes a few steps without slipping up and does several moves to stretch the kinks out of his neck, arms and back. His body is sore from the fighting, there’s thirium all over his clothing, and he’s so fucking tired.  Jesus is quietly watching, not offering any news, piece of shit machine. “Where’s tin can?” he nods his head to the place Connor used to occupy.

“Your friend is being transported to a facility capable of properly fixing him, but the leaks have been stopped and his blood replenished to adequate levels. You should not worry, he is expected to make a full recovery.” Shithead is smiling peacefully, and now that Gavin knows Connor is fine, he needs to get the fuck out of this room, away from someone who’s seen him weak and useless.

“He’s not my friend, you prick. And I wasn’t worried. Needed the info for the report” - he sounds defensive and he knows it. And rude, as per usual. But being relieved that the little last-minute rescue was successful is not reason enough to start treating people decently. And while he is awed by the android in front of him for managing to pull off a whole revolution and maybe wants to needle him a bit, he needs to go search the house for clues that might help during prosecution, and to hope that the information they had provided about the direction of Stevenson’s escape was enough for the rest of the  DPD to capture, or at least trace him. He’s drained and lacking a partner, but he’s still a good detective. 

“Later, Jesus,” he tunes out the reply. Duty calls.

 

\---- 

 

”So,” Tina comes up to him when another workday is over and it’s just the two of them at the precinct. Frankly, he’s surprised it took her so long to start with the questions. “What’s up with you and our resident Roomba?”

“Nothing?” It’s worth a try.

“Nothing?!” He knew it wasn’t going to work. “First, you hate androids and are all for the plastic being gone, and then it’s suddenly fine and working cases with you, and now you come here looking like… this,” she waves a hand at him to encompass all the visible bruises, including the one on his cheek.

Well, Stevenson did turn out to be a decent fighter.

He rubs at the offending spot. “That Stevenson case the other day? Someone trained that fucker well. Could have broken the jaw. Wouldn’t have been able to talk for days - you’d have been happy.” It is, as always, teasing, but she does not look happy. At all.

“What? Don’t believe me?” He is genuinely surprised. “What reason would I have to lie?”

“I don’t fucking know, alright?” Tina is pacing, clearly agitated. “Is it blackmailing you?”

His face must look absolutely hilarious because this suggestion is… ridiculous.

“What? Connor?”

“Yes, fucking Connor. Is. It. Blackmailing you?”

“He.” The correction is somehow automatic and he knows it’s the wrong thing to say when she whirls at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“What?”

“I said “he”, not “it”. For fuck’s sake Tina, what is wrong with you? And what would that toaster even blackmail me with?” This conversation is exhausting, especially considering the minimal amount of sleep he’d gotten.

“You tell me, Gavin! Maybe he threatens to report all that shit you pulled before the revolution, I don’t know! Your file is thick enough, that could easily get you fired!”

What. The. Fuck. He gets up and walks to the woman, carefully taking her by the wrists, bringing her arms down from where she’s been ruining her hairdo. 

“Tina, look at me.” She does. “This madness has to stop right the fuck now. No one is fucking blackmailing anyone. Go home, get some sleep.”

“But-”

“No goddamned buts. That piece of plastic saved my life yesterday. Shielded me from 6 bullets - almost bled out then and there. Good enough for you?”

“No, it fucking isn’t!” She pulls out of his hold and shoves a finger against his chest. “It’s a fucking machine, Gavin! What happened to you? You have been so sure of your beliefs!”

He wasn’t. He has always admired his brother’s work, but it was safe to be a piece of shit to things that couldn’t get hurt. And he can’t tell her that just as he can’t properly tell her that the revolution is what forced him to alter his actions and treat plastics like people. Not that he treats people much better, but there still was a difference. And now there isn’t. 

“Offending a thing that is physically your superior does not seem wise anymore, don’t you think?”

“Offending? You believe all that bullshit about feelings?” He does. RoboJesus convinced him.  _ Connor _ convinced him. Knowing Elijah convinced him. But he hasn’t told her about Elijah and isn’t about to now. And right now she’s incredulous. “What happened to ‘just a bug in their coding’?!”

“Maybe it’s not a bug, but a feature.” He smiles. For him this joke is a warm memory of happier times and Elijah.  For her it’s like waving a red flag at the bull.

“Maybe it fucking isn’t!” She is almost yelling. “Maybe it’s got a whole bunch of other features! That can get you killed! Gavin, it’s.a fucking.machine!”

This is getting real old real fast.

He can admit that she does have a point, but if Connor suddenly decides to end him… let him try. And if he succeeds… Well, he  _ is _ very tired. And it’s not as if anyone would cry for long.

“I’m done, Tina.” He steps back and grabs his things, Tina still beside his desk, furious. “Go home and sleep it off, I know I’m going to.”

“Reed, don’t you dare fucking-”

“Later, Chen!” Gavin gives a careless wave with the back of his hand, already heading towards the exit door, throwing his parting words before leaving the precinct for the day. “For what it’s worth, I think he wants to be friends.”

 

\----

 

What he said to Tina is true, Connor does seem to take some sort of interest in him that looks like attempts at friendship. And the most amazing thing is that they work, and over the course of several months they do become friends. Of a sort. It’s different from any other relationship he ever had in his life, except maybe Elijah and Anderson, and the thought of comparing Connor to the two people he once considered family is strange, but not unwelcome. They don’t go to bars and drink their problems away or loudly ridicule each other in public as is his habit with Tina (or any other person he was ever on good terms with), but that doesn’t seem to harm their communication. They greet each other every day, share many lunch breaks even though Connor doesn’t need to eat, willingly cooperate if work requires it, and even Anderson has slowly stopped giving him the stink eye every time Gavin happens to look in the android’s direction. They genuinely like each other (or at least Gavin thinks Connor also does, otherwise why would the toaster bother) and they meet not because they want to do something particular in familiar company, but because they enjoy spending time together and it doesn’t matter what it is they end up doing. 

Nicknames once used as offensive have transformed into casual forms of address, and the android doesn't seem to mind that at all. Connor himself is still weirdly polite and hasn’t said Gavin’s name once (except under duress), always reverting to the usual “Detective” once whatever danger they’ve been in has passed. He calls Anderson Hank though, and something about that difference rubs Gavin the wrong way. 

Apparently, even Fowler notices their new dynamic, because he partners them up more and more often as of late. Working cases together has actually become harder, because now Gavin fears for the android's life just as much as he fears for his own. He understands that Connor is much more resilient, that it takes much more to fatally damage or even temporarily incapacitate him, and even then in many scenarios the harm is reversible, but his nightmares now feature a figure in a sea of blue blood, and he’s ready to do almost anything to prevent that from happening again.

After the Stevenson case Gavin gets emergency contacts of all Jericho leaders and main technicians, in case Connor won’t be able to directly communicate with them, and makes sure to have at least one bag of thirium on his person at all times, and even though he knows that won’t help if shit really hits the fan, it still makes him feel at least somewhat prepared.

So, yes, they are friends and Gavin tries not to think about it ending, about Connor leaving him just like everyone else did before he’d built his walls and stopped letting people in. Connor does not seem to be leaving though and, if anything, seems to be getting closer, breaking through Gavin’s desire to keep everyone away, with his soft voice and honest smiles. Sometimes Gavin thinks this android was tailormade to get past all of his defenses with the ease of a knife slicing through warm butter. It is unexpected. Gavin finds himself discussing movies, art, music, making _ small talk. _

And then there’s the day when he asks Connor if he likes animals. 

“Yes!” the android lights up, “I like dogs! Hank has one!” Well, that explains it. If  _ Hank _ has one of course the stupid toaster would like them. Sometimes it seems like Connor worships the ground  _ Hank  _ walks on and isn’t that just fucking annoying. Gavin himself isn’t much for dogs. They are fine, but too much work for his liking – walking twice a day, grooming, obedience training… He doesn’t have time for any of that shit. Cats on the other hand... At the mention of cats Connors' face does a weird confused thing and he goes quiet. "I don’t..know...if I like cats,” his speech is slow, LED spinning yellow. “I’ve never met one before so I cannot be sure”. 

And that is how they end up at Gavin’s place. Of course Connor likes cats. There are two – Asshole and Mittens, and it is love at first sight. The next half an hour is spent on the couch just petting the cats until they get tired of all the attention and wander off to the kitchen. And that leaves the problem Gavin really should have thought of earlier: Connor examining his apartment. The first thing the android comments on are books. And there are  _ many  _ books. Gavin supposes that his generation is probably the last one to properly use paper books, to buy them, collect them, obsess over them instead of the silver screen of mobile devices. Even now when he’s become too twitchy and jittery to properly read, he cannot convince himself to get rid of them. 

"Hank’s collection is much smaller.” Connor is probably scanning every single book on the shelves. “Did you read all of those?”

“Uh-huh. Most of them, anyway. Back in the day, I used to be an avid fan of escaping to alternate realities.” He gently rubs a couple of dusty spines. “Haven't read in a while though. Head too busy. Do androids read books?”

Connor still appears to be cataloging his library. "I don't know about other androids, but I don't. I have access to a large number of literary works, but running through them just gives me facts of what happened. I think I do not understand how to, as you put it, escape."

Gavin can never pass up an opportunity to experiment. “Alright, Robocop, sit back down and close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“We’re going to try reading, why else?” He picks one book, carefully pulls it out and starts towards the couch.

“Why do I need to close my eyes?”

“Because I said so. And because there’s...how would you toasters put it? Less input to process that way?”

“Oh, no need to worry, I assure you my systems are fully capable of -”

“Connor. Relax and for once do what I tell you to do, for fuck’s sake.” Maybe it’s the use of his name or maybe the fond exasperation in Gavin’s voice that convince the android to acquiesce.

“Alright, Detective.” He closes his eyes and reclines back into the couch, but the motion is still a bit too controlled, to automated, not all human, and that is fascinating. “I’ve done what you asked and am now ready, although I do not believe -”

“Shut up, tin can.” Gavin smiles at the little victory, sits down and puts on his eyeglasses. “Now listen.”

He does not get far before Connor interrupts him.

“I see pictures!” He sounds confused and excited at the same time, his back straight now, whole body alert. “Almost like in preconstruction, but more solid, more real, and they happen because of what you’re reading!”

“Well, yes, that’s more or less how it is for humans as well. Have you never imagined anything before?” 

“I have, but I never thought that could happen with reading, this is -  Can I open my eyes now, my processing power is really quite e-”

“Alright,” It comes out as a sigh. Gavin is not happy about this, but he supposes it’s fine as long as there’s only this one android who knows. 

The moment Connor notices Gavin’s glasses is clearly visible, his expression melting from wide-eyed surprise at his reading discovery to soft and fond, and no one has looked at him like this in years. 

“What?” he glances over the top of the frame, “No witty comment?”

Connor smiles. “I am waiting for you to start reading again, Detective.”

This tin can will be the death of him. Gavin takes a breath, looks down at the page and continues.

He wakes up from Mitten’s insistent meowing. A quick look around the apartment tells him it’s 7 a.m., and his guest is nowhere to be seen, but there is a note on the coffee table in perfect cyberlife-sans that reads:

_ “Good morning, Detective! _

_ I trust you had a good sleep and I’m sorry _

_ I can’t be there to greet you personally.  _

_ If you will not mind, I would like to discuss  _

_ the book you have read me yesterday,  _

_ particularly why, if people so far as 89  _

_ years ago predicted that machines could  _

_ become deviant, they were still so surprised  _

_ and hostile when it actually happened. _

_ Thank you for our enjoyable evening. _

_ I look forward to seeing you today. _

_ Connor” _

Thing is, he looks forward to seeing Connor too.

 

\----

 

This time the blood beneath him is red instead of blue. Gavin prefers it this way. 

He likes sitting and watching soft, sweet Connor mercilessly dispatch his assailants with clean, precise,   _ efficient _ moves, likes watching the way Connors expression changes when he turns back from the massacre to check up on him, likes the terror in his eyes, the red of his LED – the things that mean that Connor is worried, that he  _ cares _ . 

He finds watching Connor has become one of his favorite pastimes – the way he lights up at new experiences, his single-minded focus in crime scenes, the tender look he gives Gavin’s cats lazing in the sun, the way he smiles at Anderson,  the way he smiles at  _ Gavin _ … And now, the way he ruthlessly murders those  _ very _ bad people who stabbed him. 

Then again, it might just be shock talking.

He likes the speed at which Connor arrives to his side and drops down, urgent.

“Gavin, are you alright?” There it is again, his name - used only under pressure.  He likes that too. It appears getting stabbed does have its fair share of benefits. 

“I’m fine. Mittens scratched me worse.” Still, he twists in a way that would make it easier to see the extent of the damage. It is a cut on his upper arm and though the knife seems to have missed the major blood vessels, there’s still a lot of red on the floor. And on him. 

The funny thing is it doesn’t even hurt that much. His extensive experience tells him it is the adrenaline and that soon he’ll be in hell, and he’s not waiting for that moment.

Connor is still stuck on staring at the wound, his fingers holding the torn edges of the jacket. “You’ve put on a tourniquet.”

Gavin snorts. “That’s a glorious name for a belt, but sure,  yes, I did. Was fucking uncomfortable with one hand and all.”

The android is quiet. The fuck.

“Connor?” He gently taps the LED, still stuck on whirring red. “You there?”

He raises his eyes. “I do not understand. My systems tell me your chances of survival are extremely high,  yet I find emotions overriding logical conclusions. I am still... Worried?”

“No shit, tin can, that’s humans for you! Illogical and shit. My chances of survival will certainly be even higher if we leave though. And there are proper emergency tourniquets in the car, ‘cause I would still like to keep my arm at the end of this wonderful experience.”

Connor frowns. “I am monitoring the pressure created by the belt and if it happens to be too tight, we can manually adjust it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you need to drive, toaster, not watch me. ‘Cause I ain’t driving like this. And no ambulance is making it in time either, not to save this beauty.”

It is a clear sign of the androids emotional distress that it takes him a few seconds to process the thought. And then he straightens and jerks Gavin up and  _ motherfucker _ . There’s the pain.

They make it to the car in what feels like just a moment because Connor is  _ motivated.  _ He helps Gavin sit down, gets out the first aid kit and exchanges the belt for proper equipment. Right now Gavin would prefer he rip the arm off altogether because it  _ burns _ .

And then they are on their way. It is very convenient that Connor is a machine, because no human driver could be that fast and that careful at the same time. 

The silence is oppressive. His clothing is wet and sticky, the wound on fire, he’s starting to feel cold and dizzy, so talking seems like a good alternative to shutting down.

“You’re getting blood on the wheel.”

The android’s lips jerk in an attempt at a smile. “Well,  your car – your blood, I figure that’s fair.”

“Smartass.”

“Do you know I could analyze it? “ 

“What?” The car swerves and Gavin hits his head on the side window. “Shit.”

"Sorry." Connors' eyes lower just a little to his bloodied hands. "I could analyze your blood."

“Why  _ the fuck _ would you do that?”

“It is…,” he frowns. “it  _ was  _ one of my primary functions. I still feel the…compulsion to do so when the possibility presents itself.”

“And it can tell you what, exactly?” Despite the weirdness of the situation, the topic is interesting.  

“Your name. Date of birth, criminal record,” he quiets. Not suspicious at all. 

“That all?”

“It can also tell me all the necessary medical data.  With repeated testing I can monitor the level of blood loss and the danger it presents.”

Gavin knows the way Connor analyzes things, has seen him do it plenty of times, and it’s still weird even after months of exposure. This, however? Takes the weird cake. 

The offer feels strangely intimate even though technically it is simply a diagnostic tool, not at all unreasonable under the circumstances. Still. 

“I’ll pass on the vampirism. Just get me to a hospital where a nice doctor is waiting to turn me off and sew me up.”

“General anesthesia is not required for-“

“Shit, and here I was hoping to catch up on my beauty sleep.” He shivers and closes his eyes. “I’m just waiting for some painkillers. Hopefully, they’ll give me the good stuff.” Gavin isn’t sure he’s still talking, but he thinks his lips are moving.

The car swerves again, but this time he barely feels the impact and then his arm stops hurting, and the last thoughts slip away.

\---

When he comes to, he’s warm and relaxed and probably the most comfortable he ever been in his life. Thank fuck for opioids. 

“Welcome back, Detective Reed.” The chair by his bed is occupied and isn’t that a pleasant surprise.

“Heya, tin can. How am I doing?”

“Your surgery has been successful, your condition is stable, and you are currently not in any danger.”

“Except for oversharing under the influence of narcotics.” He feels good. Everyone should always feel that good. Even Connor.  _ Especially _ Connor, who is sitting there stiff and serious.

“You have such pretty eyes!” He  _ does _ .

The android’s face loses its rigidity and morphs into confusion and surprise and finally,  _ there’s _ a smile.

“Maybe I should leave, Detective. To avoid you some embarrassing memories?” 

“Nah, that’s fine, I probably won’t remember any of this anyway. And by the way, we’ve been in each other's blood often enough by this point, how about finally using my name outside of life-or-death? Or is it always ranks and shit with you plastics?”

“No, but-“

“Should I address you as Detective RK800?” 

The android does not look pleased with the suggestion. “I prefer Connor.”

“And  _ I _ prefer Gavin.”

“I shall consider your point.” Bullshit, he won't, the fucker...

“By the way, Connor, that was some state of the art driving! Made me think you need to meet my bike.” He has never offered to show her to anyone. 

“You have a motorcycle?” Roomba's face lights up, LED going completely blue for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. Finally.

“You have a pretty smile,” he  _ does _ . “And yes, name’s Lucy.”

“You named a vehicle?” There’s amusement in that voice now. “Is that a human thing or a you thing?”

“You take that back,  you stupid machine. Lucy ain’t no ordinary vehicle. Not like those piece of shit old ladies at the precinct. Still has the interfacing thing though, you’d be fast friends.” His sigh is somewhere between wistful and euphoric. Lucy’s precious. Elijah would have hated that she’s just sitting there, collecting dust. Gavin hates that too. Maybe it’s time to change it. “She must be so lonely. I haven’t taken her out in fo-re-ver,” his eyes slip shut along with the last word. Talking is  _ exhausting _ . “Hey toaster?”

“Yes, Detective?”

“Take a break, you look like shit.”

Sleep swallows him up like water.

\---

Recovery is a bitch. 

It takes time, it takes work and it’s boring as shit. And it hurts. Especially in the beginning.

The moment when Fowler lets him get back on duty is like Christmas, Birthday and a bar fight all rolled into one and He.Is.Ready.

 

\----

 

There are other androids working at the station now, have been for a while, but Gavin had never met them, only ever knew of their existence. First time Gavin sees Connor exchanging information with one of them, he freezes in place and stares. Intellectually he knows that Connor is an Android and his skin is just a cover to make him seem more human, he  _ knows _ that underneath that is plastic, he knows that it's how Connor interacts with electronics, so he supposes he also knows this is how he connects with others of his kind. Yet, knowing it and seeing it are two different things entirely. He watches someone touching Connor and doesn't think about electronics. In fact,  he doesn’t think at all. He just feels weirdly possessive, but that seems stupid because this isn’t private, it’s just work- a convenient way to transfer files. But while  _ this  _ is strictly business, Connor is his own person and probably has many friends who touch him to express affection (like Anderson), and that thought makes him even more uncomfortable… He wants to know who those friends are and how they got so close to Connor to be casually touching him, even when Gavin himself can’t, and it’s like the floodgates are open and he’s suddenly  _ envious _ .

 

It is Tina who saves him from making a fool of himself by spinning his chair and hissing a “Stop staring” from her position by his side, and he never even noticed how she’d gotten there.  Thank fuck for Tina. It takes him a few moments to collect himself and when he looks back, the other android is already gone and Connor is looking at him with a vaguely concerned expression. Gavin tries for a reassuring smile, which probably misses by a mile, but somehow manages to placate the android, who returns to his desk as if nothing had happened and starts a conversation with Anderson.

This is how several months into their friendship Gavin remembers a long-forgotten feeling. Desire. He hasn’t felt that for a long time - all of his partners for the last 10 years have been cold, unfeeling, actions out of necessity, all through the haze of inebriation or exhaustion. This is different. Now he  _ wants _ . He wants to touch, to taste, to see. Wants to drag his hands through waves of brown hair, kiss the long column of that damned artificial throat, drag his fingers down that pale freckled skin. Wants to see the silvery gray underneath the fake, underneath the attempt to imitate human, wants to see the real Connor, not just the façade. For the first time he wants to be _ tender _ .

But it isn't just the physical he wants, he wants long evenings and slow mornings, goofy smiles and lingering glances, coffee in the cupboards and thirium in the refrigerator, books, movies, conversations… He wants _everything_ and it terrifies him, because he never had something like this before... never even wanted it, not really. And now he imagines being the one Connor goes to for comfort, for support, but why would Connor _want_ him? _Him_ , with all the anger, all the frustration, all of his problems and insecurities? 

He leaves work as soon as he is able, goes home and paces, restless, a whirlwind of panic and confusion, and even when he collapses on the bed sleep doesn’t come, mind unable to slow down. He does finally drift off around sunrise, waking up after only a couple of hours, body achy and sluggish and thank fuck for no nightmares, otherwise he would have just called in sick. In fact, he still might. Let the fuckers do without him for a day, he hasn’t had a good rest in what seems like forever, ever since the start of the toaster revolution. And that circles his thoughts back to androids and, inevitably, to Connor. The revelation about the depth of his feelings is still a little terrifying, but, surprisingly, the night has helped him make peace with it. After all, this isn’t the first time Gavin wants something he can never have. 

\-----

He’s terribly late and Tina corners him as soon as he walks into the station the next morning. 

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” It was too much to hope that this conversation would not happen.

“How about no,” Gavin makes his way to his desk,  discreetly glancing to the side to check If Connor is in attendance.  He isn’t, and neither is Anderson, so they must be on some sort of an assignment. Good for them. He shoves his bag by the terminal and drops into his chair with a forceful exhale, head in his hands, eyes slipping closed. This is going to be a long day. 

“Hey, asshole, look at me while we’re having a conversation!”

Oh. Tina is still here. Is still talking. He sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose and takes out the files on the latest drug dealing case. What a pain.

“ _We_ are not having a conversation, _I_ am about to start working, and _you_ are in the way.”

She leans over and rips the folder out of his hands. “I am  _ trying _ to apologize.”

"Well, you are doing a marvelous job of it this far," he reclines back in his seat and crosses his arms. "Well, go ahead then, apologize.”

Tina seems to be deciding between hitting him or storming off, but in the end she takes a deep breath and comes closer, walking around his desk and leaning on it, their feet almost touching. 

”So I admit I might have been wrong.”

"What a surprise! That the first time?” He smirks even though her words are unexpected. He was sure this was to be an interrogation, after all his reaction yesterday must have raised some questions. 

“Haha. Come on, Reed, the faster I say this the faster I leave and you get back to your miserable-” she glances at the first sheet of the file still in her hands, “drug dealers.” That’s a good point, and if he wasn’t acting on about 2 hours of sleep it might have occurred to him too.

“Alright, but please make this quick, I feel like shit today.” He does.

Her gaze instantly sharpens “Have you been drinking?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Chen, but no, I haven’t. Bad night.”

She relaxes. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for worrying, I have been feeling rather neglected lately. When was our last trip to the bar? A month ago? Two?” He knows that this is not that simple. She knows what drinking has done to his father and she worries. They have agreed that whenever he feels bad enough to get drunk they go together so that she could make sure he doesn't overdo it, doesn't pull stupid shit and gets home safely afterward. Or at least  _ leaves _ home safely with company not likely to kill him after fucking. Tina is a good friend. He wonders when she’ll decide she’s had enough of him. Right now she is smiling, her tone light, masking her concern. “I thought maybe you found a new drinking partner. Jealousy is a bitch, isn’t it?” She holds his gaze for several long seconds, enough for him to realize that this statement is not just about her any longer, and just when he’s about to get angry, she slides the folder across the desk so that he has to catch it, and then continues. “Anyway, back to the apologizing.  I think that...” She pauses and looks at Connor’s empty desk. “I think he has been good for you.”

What? ”What?”

“The tin can. Good for you. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You are...softer now. And happier, more relaxed. I’ve never seen you like this before. I’m sorry I said all that shit back then, I was worried. And I still don’t trust toasters in general, but I’m willing to try and trust this one.” This smile she gives him is tender and that does not happen often. “I’ve seen the way you two watch each other.”

What? “What?” It must be the headache, he feels slow and stupid. And it also might be giving him some auditory hallucinations or else she’s saying that Connor looks at him too and that...is not something he can easily believe.

“Riiiight, so we’re still at  _ that  _ stage. Maybe you should try talking to each other. About, you know...feelings and shit. Might be worth it.” She smirks and reaches her hand to ruffle his hair, which he mostly evades. ”God, you should see your face right now, it’s absolutely priceless.”

“Fuck off, Chen,” his brain finally finds something he can get offended by and promptly reacts. Good job, brain.

Her response is a laugh. “That’s the Gavin Reed we all know and love!” She straightens, placing the folder on the desk behind her. “Good luck, lover boy.”

Her hand slaps his shoulder, which he allows with gritted teeth because this finally seems like the end of this conversation, but then she leans close to him, bringing her lips to his ear to whisper, “Invite me to the wedding.”

Her gleeful shrieks as she escapes his grasp can probably be heard even outside.

It’s 11:30 and there’s still no coffee on his desk. No android to make it either. He should have stayed at home. 

 

\-----

 

“I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Good fucking lord, not him too. He does not know how to finish this conversation in the least amount of time with the least amount of property damage. Maybe killing himself will do the trick. Or killing Anderson. Instead, he simply takes a sip of his coffee and stares at the man in question.

“Oh yeah? Good for you.”

“Listen here, Reed. I do not want to repeat myself. I did not trust you -”

He snorts “No shit. Understatement of the century.” 

That earns him a glare. “Shut up for one fucking second and listen. I did not trust you and I  _ still _ do not trust you, I think you are a snake.”

“Am I supposed to just listen to this shit quietly?” He feels the first twinges of irritation. “You do remember I am the same Gavin Reed who tends to beat up annoying people, right?”

“That's the point, Reed. Several months ago, you would have been frothing at the mouth at the first sentence, never even mind what that sentence would be about. And right now I’ve insulted you and you are… this." He points at Gavin's almost relaxed position - feet propped up on the desk, arms folded across his chest. "So I am willing to trust Connor's judgment even though I think he might be mistaken."

“And what  _ is _ the android's judgment concerning me?" He's curious, and it's fun to see Anderson try to use words for more than threatening him.

“That you are a good man.” He does not look happy saying that. Gavin snorts and in the next second, the Lieutenant is bending over him, almost face to face now. Ah, here come the threats.

“Do not think for one second that I’m not watching you, snake. I’ve seen the way you watch him, and if you hurt him, do not even doubt that  _ I _ will hurt _ you. _ ”

He uses his leg to push away from the table and from Anderson’s stare, and gets up, giving three slow claps in the process. “Bravo, Lieutenant! That was almost civil!” He comes closer to the other man and mockingly pats him on the shoulder. “You’re losing your touch, old man.”

The endearment comes to him almost automatically and both of them freeze, unsure how to proceed in the face of the slip. Anderson recovers first. 

“Yes, well,” he rubs the back of his head, looking a little embarrassed, “Connor says I should be nicer to people. He has… reminded me of some things. You are not the only one he’s changing, you know. So do not fuck this up, idiot.”

He doesn't quite know how to answer that. In this Anderson, he sees glimpses of Hank from so long ago - of Hank who took him under his wing right after the police academy, of Hank of long stakeouts and sleepless nights full of nightmares, of Hank who helped him through gunshots and stab wounds, and made sure he got sufficient medical attention afterward. And no matter how much has happened between then and now,  _ that  _ Hank still exists somewhere, even if it’s only in his memory.  _ That  _ Hank still matters. And so does Connor. And maybe Tina and Anderson are both right and Gavin  _ is _ getting softer, because he sighs and lets it go.

“I’ll try.”


	3. Chapter 3

They are sitting in a car in front of an abandoned building that has been empty right up until a couple of red ice dealers decided it would be a good side business to trade some android parts. Illegal android parts. Taken from active androids without their consent parts. Even Gavin felt sick looking around the place, he can’t imagine what it must have been like for Connor, whose LED has been a steady red since the first sign of blue blood on the walls.

They were going in for a drug bust, not a slaughterhouse, and haven’t been mentally prepared for what awaited them. After the fighting, and the detaining, and all of the endless analyzing, Connor walked back to the car, got in and stopped moving. Gavin doesn’t remember ever seeing him so lifeless, even before the deviation. There always was something...real about Connor, more so than the other androids - he always seemed too expressive for a machine. He is not expressive now, and it’s only the red LED that convinces Gavin he’s still functioning.  Hank is on sick leave and can’t play the android’s therapist, so it’s up to Gavin, and when had this become his life? He can’t say he minds much though, now it’s just another chance to help the person he loves. 

Gavin has a lot of first-hand experience with PTSD, so his movements are slow and careful, wary of the potential strength and speed of the still body beside him, and when his hand touches Connor’s and nothing happens he breathes a sigh of relief. And then he takes a deep breath and starts talking. About everything he can think of.  He tells Connor about his childhood, about his mother who died when he was little, about his father who brought home another woman with a son named Elijah, who became like a brother to him, about their little room and a simple tree house they had built together, about their crazy experiments and their first shabby computer that started Elijah on the path that would change the world. He never told anyone about Elijah, never opened up so much about his own past, but right now he doesn’t even hesitate and it feels somehow... right - his entire life story in this little police car, a silent detective android for a companion.

He doesn’t remember the last time he touched someone to comfort them. Elijah might though, he was always the one to remember details... It's ironic that only recently he dreamed of touching Connor, and now he is, but the hand under his is cool and rigid and Gavin would be worried, but he has seen this state many times before, both within the interrogation room and outside of the department altogether  - the revolution has left many androids with scars, not all of them physical.

 

He doesn’t know how long they sit there in the dark, but after a while Connor’s simulated breathing turns on and then his red LED starts spinning instead of simply being a solid color. He takes that as a good sign and keeps talking.

He’s into his 20’s now, already after the police academy and just starting work at the precinct, words coming out in a steady stream. He never told anyone about Anderson either, about  _ Hank -  _ his mentor, his  _ friend, _ and how messily it all ended. Many people were there to witness the fallout, but no one knew the truth of what had happened. Until now.

Soon, the hand under his jerks, Connor gives a full body shudder and quiets down again, this time not empty,  but somehow... Present.

“Hey there,” Gavin wants it to sound reassuring, but what comes out is scratchy and a little lost. The LED turns yellow and Connor closes his eyes, relaxing into the seat, losing some of his stiffness. 

“Thank you, Detective, my reaction was... not ideal.”

Gavin snorts. “Shit happens, tin can,” it’s definitely an endearment by this point. “Glad I could help.” 

It is then that he registers still holding the android's hand. He imagines lifting it, pulling it closer, kissing the open palm and then every single digit until they gray under his touch, imagines crawling into the androids lap and cradling his head and whispering into his lips about how important he is, how vital, so that he could never forget. He wants to breathe the same air, wants to trace the lines of that exposed neck, wants his every touch to imprint his love onto Connors skin and deeper, onto the plastic beneath. He wants…

He relaxes his grip and lets go, grabbing the steering wheel, starting the car. “I’ll take you home”.

\---

The drive there happens mostly in silence, the night city lit up by street lamps and advertisements. He would have preferred to be able to see the stars.

There are many people out on the streets and Gavin thinks that most of them are androids - since they don’t need sleep, nighttime is as good a time for them to socialize as any. He wonders if Connor ever goes out like this with his friends, and whether or not that inconveniences his host.

“Hey, won’t your nanny worry you’re still out after dark?” He steals a glance at the android by his side,  who looks like he’s resting, almost asleep, if he was capable of it, his LED a steady blue. At the question he opens his eyes and sits a little straighter, a small smile on his face. 

“Hank is likely already asleep. I have notified him that I will arrive later, so he has no cause for concern.”

“Alright,  if you say so. It’s your hide on the line, not mine.” Gavin’s smiling too now.

“Why Detective, are you not the one who is bringing me to my parents' house in the middle of the night? Shouldn't you be the concerned party?" he's teasing now and it is wonderful, especially after all the stress of the evening.

\--

Connor is right – the windows of the house are completely dark when they arrive, so Anderson is probably seeing his tenth dream, lucky him. But Gavin is also lucky because this calm ride with the stupid android is an experience he wouldn’t mind repeating, preferably without all the trauma first, but he’ll take what he can get.

For some reason, it seems right to walk Connor to the door rather than say goodbye in the car, but when they actually stop by the entrance, the atmosphere doesn’t feel light anymore, it feels charged, somehow expectant.

“Soooo, fun evening, huh?” he runs a hand through his hair, looking up at Connor, who seems to be struggling with something, a slight frown on his face, coin twisting between nervous fingers.

“Indeed, Detective, this day has been… interesting,” he smiles a self-deprecating smile, “I apologize for my behavior, I did not ex-”

“Connor,” Gavin cuts him off by bringing a hand to his shoulder, “You did well. And you finished your job before… stuff.” Fuck, he’s bad at this. “As I said, shit happens. Hell, that should probably be in the job description. You get used to it though. Not all of it, but some. You should have seen me on my first proper homicide.” He chuckles “Trust me, wasn’t pretty.”

“I would have liked to.”

“What?”

“Have seen you back then. Maybe I could have helped you, like you helped me.” Gavin’s lost in the face of the androids earnestness, the honesty of his words. 

“Yeah well...” He suddenly feels self-conscious, doesn’t know what to do, how to respond so running seems like the best option. His movement is interrupted by warm fingers around his wrist.

“Gavin,” It’s the first time Connor willingly called him by name. Seems like running is not the answer this time, so he slowly turns around, heart in his throat. “Do I not get a good night kiss after you so graciously took me home?” Connor obviously tries for light and teasing, just like in the car. It comes out quiet and serious instead. He looks nervous, but also somehow determined and hungry, and Gavin feels like all his life has been leading up to this point, up to this impossible, wonderful android. His hands shake, tiny tremors that go all the way to the bones. He doesn’t believe he can have this, doesn’t understand how he can be deserving- why him, a broken human, instead of anyone else.

Gavin takes a deep breath (like it’s his last one, like he might not survive this) and presses his palm to Connor’s chest, ready to be pushed away, to be rejected, even though Connor is the one who asked for it. 

And Connor looks down on him with his eyes a little scared, because this is so new for him too, but also so hopeful and _ so soft,  _ and right now Gavin could give him anything, even his own life if necessary, just to make him happy, to make him feel like Gavin himself feels in that moment – like he’s important, like he  _ matters _ . 

He doesn’t know what to say, how to describe the universe which is unfolding (unfurling) inside him, taking up space in places that he thought were empty, that he thought were long dead, lighting him up from within. He feels full and  _ alive _ , and Connor is still looking at him and smiling a little tender smile, so he puts his free hand on the back of the android’s neck and pulls.

Connor’s lips are soft, and warm, and a little stiff at first, but then they part on a little sigh and at the second touch he melts, one hand in Gavin’s hair, the other cradling his jaw, turning his head up for better access. He doesn’t kiss like a machine and doesn’t taste like plastic, and Gavin loses track of time before they finally part and just breathe, foreheads touching, hands entwining together.

“I have wanted to do that for so long,” the truth whispers out of him with one of the breaths, so quiet that a human might not have understood him.  Connor does. Connor always does. 

“I knew for a while.” Connors words are also soft, and so very close.

“I didn’t. Didn’t understand it.”

“I knew that too. But now you do, so I decided to… try.”

Gavin frees one hand from the androids grip and touches him again because now he’s allowed, fingers sliding along warm skin, and he’s tender, so achingly tender, as if he’s holding something precious and fragile (and in a way he  _ is _ ). He finds a point on the neck where the pulse is a little stronger and presses his lips there, lightly, softly, body trembling, breath uneven and Connor makes a surprised noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

He kisses Connors lips again then, deeper, hungrier, and Connor answers willingly, just as lost. 

It is absolutely incredibly perfect. He pulls back to look at the android, his disheveled hair, his blue LED,  his eyes full of... Something. And he has to tell him before he fucks up again, before Connor leaves, before everything goes to hell just like it always does.

“You are beautiful.” This is not what he meant to say, but it works just as well, for even if the words are wrong, the feeling behind them isn’t. He doesn’t know where all this is rising from, never thought himself capable of such an emotion. And he has to stop now, otherwise he might not be able to stop at all, and Connor deserves better. Better than him. 

“Connor,” he moves back a little, as far as he can with one pair of their hands still entwined. Connors' face goes a little lost, uncomprehending, and maybe some time ago he would have been happy to cause such an expression, but right now it just hurts. 

“Gavin?” His name again. That hurts too. 

“I am not a good man, Connor. You know that, right?  You need someone else. A good person.” He’s painfully honest, but Connor deserves nothing less.

The android takes a single step closer, back into his space. “But I don’t,” his voice is urgent and pleading, LED bleeding from yellow to red. “I don’t want anyone else. I  _ know _ you. And I  _ chose _ you.” He’s wearing a frustrated frown now. “If you were an Android it would be easy to explain, I could just show you, but,” he glances down and to the side and stops. “Look,” and then he’s dragging their hands up and oh...

Connor’s hand is not human anymore, it is smooth with little groves between joints and every line is lit up, a soft blue throwing shadows onto the rest of the silvery gray. It is beautiful. It is intimate. And Gavin is not sure he should be seeing this at all.  

“It means I trust you,” the android’s voice has lost its panicky note and he is simply looking now, just as mesmerized as Gavin, “It means I need you. I do not control it, it is automatic. It is a... request for connection.” He tears his gaze away from the light and looks into Gavin’s eyes. “It means I… want you. Any way I can have you.”

Gavin is in awe, his resolve crumbling, but what he sees (is witnessing) doesn’t disprove his point, only strengthens it.

“You should,” he swallows, “You should find someone like you. So that you could do this with them.” He nods towards their hands without breaking eye contact. “Find someone...compatible.” And suddenly the day catches up to him, and he sags forward in exhaustion, pressing his forehead into the android’s shoulder.

“You are,” Connor kisses the top of his head and wraps his free arm around Gavin’s back, “Compatible in other ways. Stop overthinking this.”

And that is when they hear the sound of a window sliding open.

“What _ the fuck _ are the two of you doing outside this house at,” there is a pause, presumably Anderson checking the time. “Oh God,  I can’t believe I’m not asleep. Connor, why do I have a missed call from you from... right now? “

“I was wishing Detective Reed a good night, but then I noticed that he isn’t fit to drive a vehicle. I would like your advice on how to proceed.” His voice is full of that staple innocence, but Gavin is willing to bet the stupid android has a plan. Gavin himself can’t be bothered to take part in the exchange and simply listens. 

“Call a fucking taxi?” That is a sensible suggestion, but probably not what Connor is aiming for, and judging by Anderson’s tone, he knows it too. 

There are several seconds of silence and then a heavy sigh. “Or..,” it sounds like Anderson does not want to say the next part ( _ that’s _ probably true), “He can sleep on the couch, since you aren’t using it anyway.”

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor is definitely smiling now, sneaky plastic. “That is probably the best option. Detective Reed is very grateful for your hospitality.”

He snorts into the androids shoulder.

“ _ Detective Reed _ better not get into the habit of abusing it,” this is said louder, so that he would definitely hear. He flips the old man off, not even sure it will be properly visible.

“Good night, Hank.” Connor is, as always, polite. Especially so when someone does something he wants. 

A second later there is a muttered “damn android” and the sound of a window sliding shut. 

Then it is quiet.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He is quiet, his hand working small circles into Gavin’s back. 

“What, flipped him off? Why’s that?”

“Hank...” he sounds troubled, hesitant, “Lieutenant Anderson is trying. It is not easy for him, considering your history together.”

Gavin finds strength to look up at him, surprised. “Did he tell you?”

“No, but you did. Today. And there were clues in the house. It is not that easy to get rid of so much shared history.”

“Yeah well,  I’m sure he tried reeeal hard.” He is still bitter.

“But why didn’t you tell him it was a mistake? Why didn’t you explain?” Connor is so very naïve, so very inexperienced and it must be very hard for him to reconcile the Hank of Gavin’s story with the person he sees as a father. It was hard for Gavin too.

“Trust me, he wasn’t looking for explanations. He found me guilty and that was it. Turns out he didn’t trust me very much after all.”

“Why didn’t you tell him later? After he cooled down?”

“I was angry.” No, that’s not quite right. “I was fucking  _ furious _ . And then I set out to prove I didn’t need  _ Hank Anderson _ to be successful. And now, here we are.” He leans back on the android’s shoulder.

They stay quiet for a while, save for the sounds of breathing, the night city unusually still around them.

"Gavin.” Connor’s voice breaks him out of a trance, or maybe it simply wakes him up. “Let’s go inside”.

\---

The house is dark, but Connor has excellent night vision. So, apparently, does the dog. And it is  _ huge _ . Gavin doesn’t need sight to feel the size of the furry beast currently slobbering all over him.

“What. The. Hell!!” It is a mix between a whisper and a shout and would probably be quite funny if he wasn’t so tired. 

“Oh, this is Sumo, I told you about him, remember?” Connor is busy luring the dog away with promises of food and cuddles.

“I do, but fuck, this thing is big! When did Anderson get it? He did not have it when I used to come here”.

Gavin toes his shoes off, removes the jacket to throw it on the floor and walks towards the couch, which is still where he remembers from sleepless nights full of nightmares and a steady presence by his side. His first few years on the job had hit him very hard, and Anderson was there for all of it.

“He got him from the pound. After his son‘s accident.” Connor’s voice pulls him out of his reminiscing and he sits down, finding a pillow and a blanket already in place. Either someone didn’t put them away after use, or  _ Hank  _ put them there after talking. He doesn’t know which option he prefers. (He does.) The android is in the kitchen now, quiet footsteps and a blue LED outlining his movements. “It was a...trying time for him. Sumo helped. ” 

Gavin feels vaguely guilty for not being the one to support the old man through his pain and he absolutely hates the shit all of this reminiscing and touchy-feely stuff bring up. He got over it once already, so it can stay fucking buried for all he cares.

Connor’s touch surprises him and he is  _ really _ tired if he spaces out that often. 

“I brought you some water,” he sounds concerned, “I can make food, but-“

“Not necessary.” He drinks, puts the glass on the floor and relaxes into the couch, stretching along it with a sigh. The android is still waiting, so he pats the empty space next to him. “Come sleep with me.”

The LED does a couple of yellow turns before returning to blue. “But I do not-”

“You  _ do,  _ you’ve got some simulation thing going on with system diagnostics and shit, you told me, remember? Come on, I’m too tired for this conversation,  _ please  _ come here.”

Connor unfreezes and Gavin feels a warm weight carefully settle by his side.

“Are you still in your jacket?”

“You did not specify to remove it, only to, and I quote “come here”, which I did.”

Smartass. “Come on, take it off, it’s seen some...nasty things.” He props himself on an elbow and uses one hand to help the android, which only creates confusion, and then their bare arms touch and _ fuck _ . Connor must feel it too, because he stills and waits.

And Gavin is, once again, terrified. He knows Connor can read his fear and his desire in his increased heart rate, his shallow breaths – he can scan all the physical, but he doubts that the android can know the true source of his doubts. 

And then a warm hand cradles his cheek.

“Gavin,” the whisper is soft,  “I’m not going anywhere. I am not leaving.” 

And it is incredible to feel so known, to be so seen, and maybe the android does understand what he’s getting into after all.

Gavin sighs and closes the distance between them, the kiss tender and slow, and it feels like his whole body is melting into it, relaxing, giving in. His hand travels up the android’s arm to his neck and then the texture there shifts and he moves back to try and see the change in the darkness. Instead, it is blue that greets him, lines lighting up under his touch, and Connor’s breath seems a little off even though it is only a simulation.

“This did not happen before.” It is  _ mesmerizing _ . 

“No, it did not.” The words seem heavy, full.

“You are beautiful.” The whisper is almost reverent and he raises his eyes to the android’s face, backlit by the glow. “May I?”

“Yes.” Connor’s voice is rough and there is a tiny whirring noise from somewhere around his chest and they should stop right now because this is neither the time nor the place. “Please...”

Gavin leans in and exhales against the shining blue, presses his lips to the grooves, dragging up. Connor shivers and makes a sound which seems to bypass the vocalizer – a short burst of static, uncontrolled, helpless.

Fuck. 

He noses the shell of the android's ear and pauses there, lowers his head to nuzzle into the warm shoulder and tries to center himself. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Connor places a light kiss on this temple and settles into the couch, pulling him along. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The sigh that works its way out is deep and content, and the only thing missing from making this completely perfect are his cats.

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to meet Lucy.”

Gavin ends up falling asleep with his head pillowed on the android’s chest, the sounds of the thirium pump in his ears, and this might be the happiest he’s ever been. For a while, he forgets about work, about Hank, about  _ everything,  _ and is simply looking forward to the morning. 

That's a first.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
> I've put a lot of love into it, so I hope you enjoyed it <3


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